


Breathe

by killjoy_assbutt



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Arranged Marriage, Big Brother! Jaskier, F/M, Gentle Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Smut, Mob!Boss Geralt of Rivia, Mob!Boss Jaskier, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoy_assbutt/pseuds/killjoy_assbutt
Summary: Just a little modern-Continent mafia arranged marriage au I had in my head. Started as a smut-oneshot. Arranged marriage between my OFC Lizzy (Often referred to by a pet name so it can also be read as Geralt x Reader) and mob!boss Geralt.Summary: Lizzy is the daughter of a mob boss, kept out of the business, growing up as  her daddy's little girl. When Lizzy and Jaskier's father dies, another  clan starts to invade the Pankratzes' territorium. An arranged marriage  to Geralt of Rivia is the only way to save both of the families'  businesses from the new clan. Lizzy is okay with that, her fiancé is a  handsome (and towards her caring) man. The only problem is: Lizzy is very shy, and literally unable  to breathe, evertime she meets Geralt's eyes. He has an idea how to fix  that.Warnings (for smut): fingering, powerplay, dom/sub relationship, male!dom, fem!sub,daddy!kink, use of toys, (light) bondage, multiple orgasms, age gap (not that big), (later) unprotected sex, rough sex, oral, all the good stuffWarnings (for whole work): arranged marriage, mentions of death, blood and gore, violence, etc. (I’ll add to that list as I go, I have no idea where to go with this story)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Stealing My Breath Away

I had never expected for it to go like this. Even though family is important in our business, marrying for love was rarely a given. I had always thought that I would be spared. I have always been my ‘daddy’s little girl’. He kept me out of the business, so I couldn’t know that my family was on the brink of ruin when he died, three months ago.

Now that he’s dead and my older brother Julian - nicknamed Jaskier – is in charge, struggling to find his footing, with another clan was pushing us back, out of our territories. Yes, us. Not only my family is affected by this new clan. Lyria is divided into two halves, one run by my family, the Pankratzes; the other half was run by my future husband, Geralt of Rivia.

This leads me back to him. Every thought that I have leads me to the same thing – or person. Him.

Our marriage is more or less arranged. Jaskier had suggested that should our families unite we could push back the new clan, since he doesn’t know how to do it on his own, our father having left behind only a little group men. Who suggested that it would be best to do so through a marriage, I don’t know, but I know that somebody set us up. Well, Geralt had told me on our very first date.

In total, there had been four. Geralt is a busy man and he doesn’t have much for me except for meetings he holds with my brother. On the dates we had though, he had been a total gentleman, pulling out chairs in fancy restaurants and all that stuff.

I have no reason to complain, even though I feel like I’m too young to marry. I just turned twenty-one, while my fiancé was at the end of his twenties. The age gap doesn’t bother me too much, but thanks to how my dad treated me my entire life, I still don’t really feel like an adult, but more like an old teenager.

But I could also have it so much worse. My fiancé is, luckily, a total sweetheart – at least to me. This is not usual for a mob boss, especially not for one who took over for his father at the tender age of nineteen.

He is also very handsome, not that I pay too much attention to that, but it’s a benefit having a caring AND handsome man at your side, who will also become the most powerful man in Lyria someday. If I am more or less required to marry that man, then it’s good that he is nice. He is tall, at least 6’ 1” and broad, strong muscles not hidden by his tailored three-piece suits – making me feel tiny every time I stand next to him, with my total height of 5’5”. He has silvery-white hair that reaches down to his shoulders – weird for a man of his age, but, I don’t know, I found that extremely sexy. Strong jaw and cheekbones make his face look like chiselled to perfection by the gods themselves – and it probably is. And his eyes, oh his eyes. Every time I look at them, I forget how to breathe. The intensity of his stare makes my lungs stop working. Like literally, I have to look away if I don’t want to suffocate, if only that wasn’t so hard. They are golden, like liquid honey, shining with a glint of amusement every time I’m near him – he likes making me flustered. And I drown in his eyes. Every. Single. Time.

That is another reason I’m not so sure about the wedding; I’m still in the phase of the relationship where I blush and giggle at everything he says, unable to look at him for too long if I want to breathe. I like him, maybe even love him already, but I still feel like we’re moving too fast; our entire relationship developed within the last two months!

He on the other hand is so confident, about our relationship as well as his business, but he leaves me my space, realizing that I am not completely ready. He doesn’t force me to do anything –we only ever kissed twice, on our last two dated, when he dropped me off at my house – and I’m thankful for that. I said he’s sweet.

But he can also be oh so authoritarian. Ever since we got engaged, my brother lets me participate in meetings of the two bosses, because, the way Jaskier sees it, as a mob boss’ wife I have to at least know what’s going on in our territory. Geralt, to me, seems like he would rather I remain in that bubble of innocence I was brought up in, but he respects my wish to be informed about the business. It’s the reason I have to marry him (so early in our relationship) after all.

So, back to the meetings… they argue a lot, but never too serious; Jaskier being inexperienced and acting how our father would want him to, and Geralt all professional and knowing full well what to do. And, oh gods, when he speaks all serious about the business, or commanding his men, it makes my innocent virgin mind wander places my father would be very disappointed about.

But what can I do? That handsome man’s deep voice booming through the room, telling my brother to let him handle the situation, that he knows what to do. Ugh. It makes me clench my thighs together, and as this happens a lot, by now I know he had noticed. I see it in the little side-glances he gives me then, trying to supress a smirk but failing. When that happens I would realize that I had been staring, lower my gaze to my lap or shoes and blush violently. And he knows full well what he’s doing to me; enjoys it, even.

We are over at his house now; the three of us in his large office, for a change not discussing business, but our upcoming wedding. It would be in a two weeks at Geralt’s residence. Part of me is excited. I can’t wait to finally be his. Another part dreads the day I would be married off to a man I barely know. This combination makes my head spin.

All of the sudden, the murmur of conversation stops.

“Lizzy? Liz!” I hear my brother’s voice calling out, ripping me from my trance. I look up at him to see both men staring at me, expectantly. Jaskier has his arms outstretched to his sides in a questioning gesture standing in front the big desk, while Geralt is seated behind it in his chair, still so tall and broad, facing me and arching a perfect eyebrow. My breath hitches at the sight and I feel so tiny sitting on the office couch, blushing like the virgin I am under the stare of this perfect and dominant man.

Tearing my eyes from my fiancé to my brother, I just shoot him a questioning look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, fed up with my lack of concentration.

“Your dress…” he sighs exasperatedly.

Geralt only smirks, knowing that whatever the exact reason I hadn’t been paying attention, he had been big part of it.

“Oh, err, yes… my dress. It arrived yesterday, along with the shoes and the jewellery. Everything fits perfectly,” I stuttered out, hoping it was the answer he expected. Jaskier sighed, letting his shoulders drop and turned to face Geralt.

“A hopeless case,” he mutters to himself. It wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Oh, we know, sweetheart,” my fiancé’s voice rumbles through my entire body, making me shiver slightly.

I look up at him, signifying that he had my attention, but not meeting his eyes, not wanting to suffocate. And when he looks at me with his brow arched like that, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face, I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to breathe. I concentrate on his lips instead – plush and pink – remembering what they had felt like against my own and wondering how they’d feel against other parts of my skin. My own thoughts cause my blush to deepen. I avert my eyes from his lips, trying to get rid of my thoughts. My eyes landed on his hands, clasped together, his slightly stubbled chin resting on top.

No! No, Lizzy, you will not wonder how they’d feel like around your throat or grabbing your hips so tight it’ll leave bruises. I repeat: you will not!

“The question was,” he continues, the smirk now stretching to a cocky smile, again knowing full well what he does to me, “when you’ll bring it all over, seeing that the wedding will be held here. It would only make sense for you to get ready here as well.” He explains it as if I was stupid.

“I-I’ll have it brought over here tomorrow,” I try to sound confident but fail miserably. This man’s effect on me makes me want to hate him, honestly, just that I can’t. Usually I’m not a girl to be at a loss of words – in any situation – my father having raised me sheltered, yes, but into a confident young woman. But around Geralt my mind goes blank.

“No offence to your men,” Geralt speaks up again, directed at Jaskier. “But,” he turns his head back to me, “would you really trust anyone other than yourself with this important task? I have heard that women tend to be very sentimental about their wedding dresses.”

There was something else behind his suggestion, but I couldn’t quite figure out what. Was it desire? _Lust_ even? Was he tired of waiting?

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Geralt’s voice booms. Again, I clench my thighs together at the command that isn’t even directed towards me.

The door opens and two men enter, holding a third between them. The third man is blindfolded and struggling against the other men’s grip, a bruise forming on his jaw as blood trickles down his nose and lip, staining the grey carpet.

Geralt knits his eyebrows together. This simple change of his expression makes the gorgeous man look intimidating already.

“Very sorry to interrupt, Sir. We caught him stealing goods,” explains one of the men.

Geralt sighs and rises to his feet. “Get him to the basement. I’ll deal with him once I’m done here,” he commands.

His voice is cold. It makes me recall why his men called him ‘The Butcher’. He may be sweet when it comes to me, polite when he talks to my brother, but when it’s about business he is coldblooded, calculating and merciless.

The men nod and drag the thief behind them, leaving the room.

Geralt speaks up again, warmth returning to his voice as he addresses Jaskier and me, “I’m afraid we have to cut this short. Seems like I have … business to attend to.”

He walks over to my brother, shaking his hand. “Sorry I can’t show you out. Until next time, Julian.” Jas returns the farewell and then Geralt walked towards me.

I rise to my feet at his approach, only to almost fall back as he stops less than a foot in front of me. I lower my gaze, but he lifts his hand to place his thumb and index finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. He stares down into my eyes, smiling when he hears my breath catch in my throat, sees my chest stop moving and the pulse in my neck quicken.

“And we’ll see each other tomorrow, my sweet,” he whispers, the low rumble of his voice making me shiver as I struggle to breathe. He chuckles at that and leans down to press a kiss to my cheek. I feel my face burn as he steps back. “Good night, darling,” he says sweetly as he leads me to the door, a hand on the small of my back, making my skin tingle, Jaskier following.

“Night… Geralt,” I breathe out, now finally able to, not trusting my voice to be any louder.

Jaskier leads the way towards the big entrance of Geralt’s mansion. Behind us, I hear his steps echoing on the stone floor as he makes his way towards the basement.

Once we reach home, it’s late and I go to my room immediately, undress and fall into my bed, not bothering to put on pyjamas. I fall into a dreamless sleep.

***

When I wake up the next morning, it feels as if only minutes had passed since I got into bed. Stretching and yawning, I drag my feet over the floor towards my bathroom and get ready for the day. I get into the shower and think about everything that could happen today.

I’m nervous. No, I am beyond nervous. That glint I had seen in his eyes yesterday, when he forced me to look at him, stealing the air out of my lungs, I can identify it now. It was desire.

This will be the first time in a while that it was just Geralt and I, alone, and I’m anxious about what he has planned. What will happen? What are his plans exactly? Surely not getting the wedding dress and everything to his place, I could bring that stuff when I get there on the day of our wedding. So, why is he so keen to get me come over?

Stepping out of the shower, I spread my favourite lotion on my freshly shaven skin, hoping it would moisturise it enough not to form dry spots or pimples as my skin usually tended to. Once I’m completely done getting ready, I collect everything I would wear at the wedding – dress, shoes, jewellery, and yes, also lingerie – and make my way towards the garage, loaded with three big boxes and a garment bag. I pick the SUV, hoping it would be big enough to transport everything wrinkle-free. In the kitchen, I find our driver and tell him which car.

“We’ll leave at noon,” I tell him and go back to my room. I know I should stay in the kitchen and eat something, but I’m just too nervous. So nervous that I’m afraid I could throw everything back up if I ate something.

My nerves are now fluttering, but there’s no turning back from what was going to happen in two weeks, no delaying. A few minutes before noon, I get up from my bed and give me a once-over in the mirror. I look and smell good; this fact gives me at least a little confidence. I smile and make my way to the garage once again, bumping into my brother on the way.

“Text me when you’re there,” is all he says before continuing his way to his office. After a few steps, he stops and calls out for me. “Hey! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he adds with a wink.

I blush and look to the floor. There is little he wouldn’t do when a handsome man or beautiful woman is involved. I keep walking and soon enough reach the car.

“Where to?” the driver asks.

“Geralt,” was all I manage to say, now that I can’t hide from my fate anymore.

It’s not that I don’t like him, or don’t want to marry him, but the thought of only the two of us alone… I don’t know. I’m scared to embarrass myself in front of him. He can be intimidating; both in the violent way – as I was just reminded yesterday – but also because he’s so much more experienced than I am. I grew up sheltered, was home-schooled, never had contact to men other than my family and our, err, staff. He on the other hand sure must have had a fair share of relationships, or flings at least.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.” The driver’s voice rips me from my thoughts.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I text Jaskier that I had arrived safely. “Can you wait here? I’m sure it won’t take long.”

“Sure, Miss. Do you want help with the dress?”

“No,” I give him a smile through the rear-view mirror. “I’ll be fine by myself. Thank you.”

Or, at least I hope so. I pull the boxes from the trunk and make my way towards the big entrance door.

Before I can knock, it opens to reveal on of Geralt’s men. With an ‘Allow me, Miss’ and ‘follow me’ he takes the garment bag from me and leads me inside, up the big, modern staircase and along a long corridor. He stops outside the door at the far end, knocking twice, sharply so.

“Enter.” I hear the familiar, stern voice call out.

The man opens the door and motions for me to go in. “Sir, your fiancée,” he announces from behind me.

I step further into the room. The first thing I notice is the large bed; not the owner of the deep, rich voice that has my knees go weak, who’s standing by the equally large couch in front of a modern styled fireplace. No, It’s the bed. We are in his bedroom! My nerves flutter.

Geralt only chuckles as he walks towards me, stopping right in front of me and reaching out for the man still standing in the doorway, taking the dress from him. My breath hitches at the proximity. I can smell his musk – mint and pine and _him_ – and feel the heat radiating off his body. A shiver runs up my spine as a patch in my panties starts to dampen. Shit, keep it together, Liz!

“Thank you,” he directs at the man, who then leaves, shutting the door.

“You’re staring.” I hear him chuckle yet again. Making me flustered is a game to him, I suppose. I’m not staring at him, though. I’m staring at the bed.

“Wh-why are we i-in here?” I stutter, “Th-the whole house is-is yours. Why the bed-bedroom?”

“Hmm, sweetheart. I think you know, given you can’t stop staring,” the deep, rumbling voice fills the air. “But most of all –” he shrugs, “– Privacy.”

I finally tear my gaze off the bed and to the owner of the voice.

“You said you’d wait.” My voice is small, nothing more than a squeak, as I put the boxes of shoes and jewellery down on the couch table, while Geralt puts the garment bag away into the closet.

“Yes, I know. I did. But that was before I saw you clench your legs at everything I say, sweetheart. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can see you want this.” He walks back towards me and grabs my face, gentle yet determined, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “And yet, you can’t look me in the eye.”

His eyes are dark with lust now, a mischievous glint in them. I feel my breathing stop, swallowing hard. He smirks.

“Hmm, I can see why.”

But he doesn’t let go of my face, forcing me to stare back at him. When he finally lets go, I tear my eyes off him and take a step back, panting heavily.

He chuckles. “And I haven’t even touched you yet. You need to breathe, sweetheart,” he teases.

“I can’t,” is all I’m able to choke out, still breathing heavily from the lack of oxygen.

“We’ll see about that.”

I dare to look up a little, my eyes meeting his lips. They are stretched into a smirk. This man, I swear! Is he trying to kill me? Because, if he doesn’t stop, he’s going to.

One of his hands is on my chin again, gently tipping my head back until our eyes meet. My lunges refuse to work. I feel a warmth hover above my breast, as Geralt searches for a sign for him to stop in my eyes. There is none. I want this. He was right earlier: I want him. My body just refuses to work with me, – even though it wants him just as badly as my brain does – frozen by the sight in front of me. When his hand finally meets my breast I gasp, the breath catching in my throat, not reaching my lungs.

“Hmm, let’s try this again,” Geralt rumbles deeply, “If I drop my hand, will you keep looking at me?”

There is no way in hell I can look away from his intense stare, even if I wanted to, his gaze is locked on mine, and I can’t break away. I nod as much as I can with hand still on my chin. Then he drops it, running it down my cleavage, my ribs, my back and lower… I gasp aloud when he squeezes my bum, air finally filling my lungs.

“Ahh, there we go. Good girl.”

His praise makes me blush and I’m about to lower my head as his hand comes up again, stopping me.

“You are so cute when you blush,” he hums, adding darkly, “So innocent. I can’t wait to make you mine. To ruin that innocence. To lure out that dirty little girl that I know is hiding deep in there.”

Heat pools in my belly at that and I clench my thighs together, blushing even harder.

“Mhh, seems like you can’t wait either,” he breathes hotly, squeezing my breast harder and I gasp again. "But first, we need to fix your breathing, darling, don’t we? I can’t have you suffocate underneath me.”

Oh gods! My eyes go wide, my jaw dropping slightly, lips parting.

He lets go of me and steps back, even turning around as I’m breathing heavily. Once I am breathing normally again, he turns back to me.

“Do you trust me?”

I nod.

“Words.”

His voice is stern, - like the one he uses with his men – causing the heat in my belly intensify and my panties to dampen.

“Yes,” I finally bring out.

And then he is impossibly close once again, a gentle but dominant hand on my upper arm leading me closer to the large dark grey leather couch.

“Lay down. If you want to stop, say so. Got it?”

I am about to nod when I remember his command. “Yes.”

“Good,” he says, smiling proudly as he guides me to sit at first, then gently pushes me to lie down as he kneels above me, his eyes never leaving mine, not once.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to push your skirt up now, okay?” His eyes searching mine for a sign for him to stop yet again, but the lust in them dominant, still.

“Uh-huh,” I mewl, short breaths leaving and entering my lungs now.

He does as he says, tearing his gaze off my eyes. He lets his hands slide up my thighs so teasingly slow that I’m sure I’m going crazy. His hands reach the hem of the skirt, he lets his fingers slide underneath the fabric, squeezing my soft skin before continuing his way up, pushing my skirt further up.

I’m mewling for him, shallowly panting from just the thought of what he is going to do to me.

“Hmmm, lace panties. You knew this was going to happen, huh?” he groans – fucking _groans_! – once the skirt is pooled around my waist, his eyes now on the soaked patch in my panties, and he... _licks_ _his_ _lips_!

Finally being able to breathe, I answer, “Well, I suspected...”

He lets his fingers graze over the baby pink material on my hips, curling them to capture the waistband.

“You know… they are pretty,-” he murmurs darkly, his hot breath tickling the skin of my belly, making the muscles there clench as a shiver runs through my whole body, goose-bumps spreading. “- too bad I’m going to rip them from you.”

Before I can comprehend what he said, he pulls his hands to the side, the sound of elastic bands snapping, making me cringe.

“So much better,” Geralt sighs, pulling the light pink shreds off my body, exposing my untouched pussy to him and the cold air of the room.

Yes, untouched, well… mostly; I, uhh, I rarely touch myself, the risk of somebody bursting into my room at any given time – I’m not allowed to lock my door – way too high for me to give in to pleasure from my own hand. I had done it only four of five times in my life, all to the thought of the man who is currently kneeling above me, imagining how it may feel like. This right now, is far from what I had imagined, though – this is so much better.

He inhales deeply at the sight, his eyes then darting meet to mine, as I watch him, too captivated at the sight to turn away. I feel bare, in more than the obvious way, wanting nothing more than to push my legs together. No man had ever seen me like this, and now this animal is kneeling between my thighs, golden eyes fixed on me as if I was his prey. Oddly enough, it excites me more, making me whimper at the thought of him finally taking me.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, voice low and rough, making me release yet another wave of wetness, “Smell so sweet.”

His hands reaching forward to palm at my thighs, inching inward, parting them wider for him.

Then he crawls up my body, eyes never leaving mine until we are on one level. His eyes tear off mine when he lowers his gaze to my lips, and I do the same, watching, as they get closer and closer until they finally meet in a gentle kiss. His plush are lips soft on my own, taking control, tongue sliding against my sensitive upper lip as he lowers himself to let me feel his weight.

The contact of my exposed lower half with his slacks makes me gasp into the kiss. Geralt’s opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, exploring. One of his hands wanders down my body, squeezing my still clothed breast and then continuing to my aching heat.

He breaks the kiss to stare into my eyes, wanting to see my reaction, leaving me breathless once again, as he slowly sinks one finger into my tight, wet, aching heat. I take in a sharp breath at the unfamiliar intrusion, causing the man above me to smile.

“You’re breathing,” he mutters as he pushes his fingers back and forth inside me. Oh no, I’m not only breathing, no. By the time he adds a second finger, curling them, he has me panting beneath him, all while keeping eye contact. When I feel his thumb brush over my clit, I cry out, unable to remain quiet anymore. Wet, lured sounds are all that is heard in this room, apart from my moans and panting of course. The room sounds like pure sin.

A pressure is building in my belly and my hips are rutting up against Geralt’s hand involuntarily. I’m a moaning mess beneath him, the pressure becoming too much for me. My legs are shaking and my hands are gripping onto his shoulders.

“Good girl. Cum for me,” the deep voice coos from above me, all I can see is his eyes, those beautiful golden eyes, before my eyes roll back into my head and I see stars dancing. I cry out, his words sending me over the edge, the pressure bursting, my whole body tensing and twitching as whole body and mind is filled with enormous, indescribable pleasure.

He keeps working his fingers inside me, guiding me through my first orgasm of that night (or day). I whine at the loss of him inside me, and open my eyes. But the sight in front of me is sinful. Geralt’s eyes are locked on mine as he pushes his fingers, coated with my juices, into his mouth, groaning when he tastes my essence on his tongue.

“Fuck, baby, you taste amazing,” he groans, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and licking them clean.

I stare up at him, wide-eyed and panting. Why do I find this so _fucking hot_?!

Dropping his hand to cradle the side of my head, supporting his weight on his elbows, he smiles down at me, proudly. “See? You can breathe, even while you look me in the eyes. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He’s right, I’m breathing now while staring into his eyes, panting even. He has lied down between my legs while I came down from my high, careful not to crush me, but wanting me to feel his weight on my body, his power. And now… I can feel _something_ pocking my thigh.

“No, but something else sure is,” I giggle.

I wiggle my hips against his bulge, causing him to groan. The pressure of his hot, hard, and – what feels like – huge member, along with the sweet sound my movement elicits from him, lights the fire inside me once again. I feel weirdly confident now, after being completely vulnerable underneath him, seeing the effect it has on _him_.

“Okay, that’s it,” he says, more to himself, as he sits up and pulls me with him, tugging my shirt off my body as he goes, leaving me sitting in my baby pink lacy bra, matching my panties and the skirt still hiked up around my waist. His movements are quick. He reaches behind my back and undoes my bra, flinging it I-don’t-know-where.

He stands up and pulls me with him, his hands on the small of my back as he unzips my skirt, letting it pool around my feet, still in heels.

Then, he picks me up and throws me onto the bed, my shoes falling off in the process. I bounce as my body hits the soft surface, staring at him wide-eyed as he rids himself of his suit. The blazer goes first, then the vest, both items dropped to the floor. His tie however, he loosens and pulls over his head instead of undoing it, dropping it onto the bed. I clench my thighs together, already suspecting what he’ll use it for.

When he pulls off his dress shirt, revealing his toned chest and stomach, I forget everything we had just achieved in the last ten minutes. My breathing stops at the sight of his pecks, abs and biceps – I’m pretty sure I was drooling – and at the way the muscles flexed when his hand moves to push down his slacks and boxers in one go. I mean… I already knew he was well built, his suit hiding little, but really seeing him in all his glory… it makes me clench around nothing.

I gasp when his member springs free, long and thick, as it stood proudly against his stomach.

My legs widen instinctively, my body acting on its own, exposing my glistening, wet, waiting heat to the man before me. Though, I’m not sure if he’s going to fit. He really is big, huge even.

“Good girl,” he praises as he walks towards the bed, taking his time, teasing, enjoying the sight of me squirming and shaking with anticipation in his sheets. He crawls up the bed, the tie in one hand, settling between my legs, his hot and hard member nudging against my inner thigh, so close to where I so desperately need him. I roll my hips up against him, desperate for some friction. He leans down to suck on my neck and reaching for my hands, pulling them through the noose his tie created and pulling it tight. Geralt lets my tied hands drop to the pillows above my head and leans over to the side, reaching out to his bedside table. I hear a drawer open and close. And then, he sits up again, catching my gaze, his face serious despite his arousal.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, his voice sweet but somehow just as serious as his face.

“Uh-huh,” I nod, my brain too clouded from the sight above me to form a proper thought besides that I want – _need_ – him.

Geralt smiles a little and rolls his eyes.

“Words, sweetheart. I need words. You’ll be a lot of work, I can see that already,” he mutters the last part more to himself. My hazy brain lets his remark slip, but work? What does that mean?

Finally able to form a response I breathe a ‘yes, I need you’, spreading my legs wider for him for emphasis.

He rolls the condom on his – I’ve never seen a naked man before, so I had no idea what was the average, so to me he is enormous – member, and leans down to capture my lips in a sweet kiss before pulling back.

“I’m not going to lie, this will hurt. If you want me to stop or go slower, tell me,” he mutters against the skin of my neck, right at my pulse point – he can probably feel how fast my heart is racing at this point.

I look into his eyes and take in a deep breath through my nose – proud of myself that I was able to do that now – releasing it through my mouth before answering.

“I will. I trust you.”

That is all he needs to push my leg to rest against his hip, his grip tight, and guides his length into my aching core. He pushes in slowly and I yelp out in pain. He was right, it hurts; oh and how it hurts.

He’s barely inside me, only a few inches, but the violent stinging as he stretches me, farther than his fingers could ever prepare me, brings tears to my eyes.

His eyebrow twitches. He looks almost guilty as he halts his movements, giving me time to adjust.

“Shh, you’re doing amazing. Just relax, baby. Breathe. Yes, good, just like that. Good girl,” he praises me. I nod a little, signifying for him to continue, and he pushes further in.

“Shit, you’re so tight. Fuck,” he almost hisses, audibly strained.

“No,” I pant out, “You’re just so big.”

Probably we’re both right… he’s large and I’m, well… a tight, little virgin.

He leans down to kiss me again, forcefully, making my head spin, and sheathes himself inside me with one quick thrust of his hips, splitting me open for him in one fluent movement. I cry out into the kiss and his lips leave mine, forcing himself to bite back a groan as he impales me fully, kissing away all tears that manage to spill from my eyes. Geralt rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. I mirror his breath, my nails digging into the fabric of his tie, hands obediently above my head.

We remain like this for a few moments, kissing until the stinging ebbs away and is replaced by hunger. I need some friction, need him to move. How is he not going crazy by now?

I roll my hips up, begging for him to do something, and Geralt catches on to my drift immediately, visibly relieved I’m ready now. He pulls his hips back a little and pushes back in, slowly. The feeling is unfamiliar but not uncomfortable, and I push my hips into his, a small moan escaping my lips.

Geralt pulls back again and after a few careful thrusts, – which admittedly hurt, but even that pain is soon replaced by nothing but pleasure –, he picks up the pace. At first, I’m trying to meet his thrusts, but as he grows faster, I find myself unable to. Soon enough, one of his hands wanders down to my hips, pinning them in place as he drills into me roughly. I let the beast of a man above me work as I struggle against the tie around my wrists. All I am able to do is moan for and clench around him, hoping I’m making him feel just as good as he’s making me. But judging from his almost animalistic groans and grunts, I think –

“Ah, shit, baby, you feel so good around my cock, so fucking tight!”

I wrap my legs around his waist, the grip on my hip tightening surely leaving marks, as I clench around his cock, causing him to groan as he sucked hickeys along my cleavage. I’m a moaning mess underneath him, struggling to keep my eyes focused on his, let alone open. But his stare was so intense as he fucks into me, that I can’t look away. As he notices me struggling, though, he slows, his thrusts becoming deeper instead, but never losing their force.

The head of his member brushes over an especially sensitive spot inside me and I cry out, seeing stars.

“Found it,” Geralt lets out a strained chuckle as my walls clench tighter around him. He concentrates on hitting that one spot within me, my moans rising in pitch as my walls continue to clench around his impossibly hard, pulsing length. I dig my nails into his tie as the pressure in my belly grows rapidly. He shifts a little, his pubic bone now brushing against my clit with his every move. A few more slow and deep thrusts, stimulating both my clit and my g-spot, all while his tongue works on my breast, predator eyes still peering up at me, are too much for me. The pressure is threatening to burst. My walls quake around his pulsing length. I am close. So fucking close.

“Come on. Let go. Cum on my cock, baby.” A voice grunts hotly into my ear, warm breath fanning the side of my face and my eyes shoot open. When did I close them? Doesn’t matter…

As my eyes open, they’re met with Geralt’s beautiful golden ones. The intensity of his stare along with his words and the sensation of him still moving deeply inside me make me lose it. Something inside me explodes, making me see galaxies. I clench hard around him, crying and moaning out, chanting his name – the only word I can remember right now. White-hot pleasure engulfs me as I feel his hips stutter then halt above me, groaning deeply as I feel him swell inside me, shooting his load into the condom.

He collapses on top of me, catching himself on his forearms not to crush my shaking and heaving body. We’re both panting and sweaty as he kisses me sweetly on the lips, before rolling off me, pulling out in the process.

I whimper a little at the loss of him, suddenly feeling empty, incomplete. He pulls off the condom and throws it away in the bathroom, then lies down next to me and pulls me onto his chest, untying my wrists. I’m still dazed from the two mind-blowing orgasms I had, absently playing with the soft curls and tracing the scars on his chest.

“That was amazing,” Geralt panted out, “You did so good, baby, took me so well.”

I blush at the praise. He had done all the work; I didn’t do anything besides letting him feel how good he made me feel. Suddenly, I’m overcome with tiredness, supressing a yawn. My fiancé chuckles, pulling me to lie in top of him. We lie in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company and the warmth that radiated off our bodies, seeping into one another. I think I even dozed off for a few minutes – when he speaks up all of the sudden, even though it was only a whisper, I’m startled.

“Stay with me.”

I’m confused. I had done no attempt to get up, his arms around me even preventing me from doing so, even though I don’t want to leave. I wish I could lie on his chest for forever; he’s just to comfortable and warm, the embrace of his big, strong arms making me feel small and protected. My tired brain doesn’t quite understand what he means by that.

“I wasn’t going t-“

He interrupts me. “That’s not what I meant,” he chuckles at my confusion. “Stay. Move in with me. I don’t think I can wait two more weeks. I want you here with me. I can have your stuff brought over by tomorrow. And I’m sure your brother would agree with me that it would be best for our relationship if we lived together before the wedding, getting used to each other.”

He’s right. It would be better if we spent more time together, alone. Hell, if he hadn’t insisted on me coming here today, I would have suffocated on our wedding day – latest in our wedding night. I really want to stay with him, to spend every second with him, now that I wasn’t scared to choke anymore. Fuck! I think I really love him.

“Mhhh, yeah,” I hum, snuggling even closer to him, resting my head in the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his stubbly throat, the short hair tickling my lips. I close my eyes again, slurring words, already half asleep, “I want to stay here with you, too.” Before I know it, I’m fast asleep.


	2. You’re Not Leaving The House

When I wake up, the bed is cold. With closed eyes, I let my fingers wander around the bed, searching for the warmth of the man who had just fucked me senseless – twice, one time just with his fingers. I can still fell him. Shit, am I sore!

I open my eyes when I can’t find him.

It’s late afternoon by now. Fuck. I had told my driver that it wouldn’t take long. I quickly text him that he can leave, and that I was sorry he had to wait so long. Then I text Jaskier that I’m staying at Geralt’s for the night. His response … ‘thumbs up’ and a winking smiley. My brother, I swear! I’m kinda glad that they had agreed on Geralt becoming the head of both families from our wedding on. As much as I love my older brother, Jaskier is just not serious enough for that position. He’s barely managing now, always stressed, while still trying to crack stupid jokes. The result are bad puns and annoyed groans when no one laughs – well, our, err, staff laughs (Jas is still a dangerous man, or at least he could be if he wanted to), but I don’t, I just roll my eyes.

I’m too distracted by my thoughts to realize I’m not naked anymore. Only when I get out of bed to collect my clothes and get dressed, I notice that I’m already wearing a clean pair of panties, – where they come from, I have no clue – along with a huge, white t-shirt belonging to Geralt. It hangs loosely on my shoulders, and within seconds it slips down, revealing one shoulder fully, along with the marks Geralt had so kindly left. Oh, and it was lightly see through. Well, that should be enough… I just hope I don’t run into too many of his men.

I walk out of the bedroom, down the corridor and the stairs towards the huge living room, for the first time not too distracted by the gorgeous man who’d be talking to really take in my surroundings. It’s clean white, the furniture and the floor dark grey, very modern, with large windows looking out to the huge garden – where our wedding will be. However, I find it empty. One of Geralt’s men steps out from behind a wall that divides the big room into living and dining room. It’s the same man who had led me to the bedroom earlier.

He takes in my appearance, smirking a little to himself at the thought of what his boss had done to me. Geralt has left his fingerprints all over my thighs after all, marks on my neck, thanks to the wide shirt fully exposed to the man’s view. I cover my chest with my arms, slightly embarrassed. I wonder if they heard us. Dear gods, I hope not!

“Oh, err, Miss. You must be looking for the boss.” Thankfully no snarky remark. Well, I guess Geralt would have his head if he said anything inappropriate to me. He owned me now, after all. I know I had agreed to the marriage, I wanted to marry Geralt, but that was the position of a mafia wife. I am his now, and if somebody does so much as look at me weirdly, they better have their testament signed.

I nod, praying he doesn’t notice my blush from where he is standing.

“He’s in his office. I can get you there,” he offers.

I smile gratefully at him, not wanting to seem unfriendly, but I need to get away from that man, from that situation, it’s embarrassing enough as it is. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to cause any trouble. I know the way. Uhh… thank you.”

I turn and leave towards Geralt’s office after seeing the man nod curtly, my bare feet tapping along the chilly stone floor and I regret not putting on my shoes. But then again, the things I’m wearing now, plus heels? Nah, I could barely walk already, wearing my heels would only make me look like a whore coming home from a successful day. And getting dressed in my own clothes, when Geralt had put so much effort in me not waking up naked? Nuh-huh, not gonna happen, I want him to know how much I appreciate his gesture. Also, I like wearing his shirt, it smells like him, and it can easily pass as a dress on me, a short one, but still.

I reach the door to his office and knock.

“Come in,” I hear him call from inside and I enter. He’s on the phone, his face serious, brow furrowed in concentration as he stares at his computer screen intensely, index finger held up, signifying for me to be quiet. It’s a business call. An important one at that. He doesn’t even look up as I enter, probably doesn’t even notice it’s I. For all he knows, the knock could have been one of his men.

I wait patiently for him to finish the call, sitting down on the armrest of his office-couch. It really seems to be a very important call in the way his eyes never leave the screen, darting over whatever was on there, his brows furrowed and his commanding voice exuding pure authority. I would be lying if I say that that tone of voice doesn’t make me shiver.

As he focuses on the screen and the call, my eyes scan his appearance. Had he been completely dishevelled after, uh, teaching me how to breathe in his presence, now he’s back at his elegant self, dressed in yet another suit, – the one he wore before is probably soiled by my juices – hair tied back neatly, not a single silver strand out of place while its length draped over his shoulders. To put it short, he looks perfect, while I look like a fucked mess.

It takes another five minutes for him to end the call. When he finally does, his eyes shift to me. He looks stern at first, as if he was ready to yell at whoever dared to interrupt him while he was clearly attending to urgent matters. When he spots me, though, sitting there in his big shirt, smiling innocently at him, his expression softens. From behind his desk he, takes in my appearance, a brow arched, his elbows propped up on the dark wooden surface, the tips of his fingers touching, index fingers leaning against his lips. A slight smile played around the corners of his lips.

I cross my arms at him. 

“You know what they say,” he starts, lowering his hands, “once she wears your shirt, she’s yours.”

I chuckle as I walk over to him, “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

“Hmm, not really,” he hums, smiling at me and turning his chair as I walk around his desk, so that he’s still facing me.

“You look stunning, baby.” He pulls me towards him by the waist, forcing me to climb onto the big chair, straddling him. “Wearing my shirt, barely covering your sweet little bum.” He squeezes it for emphasis while his other hand travels up my back.

“Your hair all fucked and messy.” He tugs at it. “And all marked up for everyone to see who you belong to.”

“I was yours the moment I first saw you,” I admit, gazing lovingly into his golden eyes. He smiles and pulls me in for a passionate kiss, his hand tangled in my hair, pulling me closer to him. Our lips moulding together in perfect sync, his tongue invading my mouth, memorizing what I feel like, becoming familiar with my taste and leading the dance. There wasn’t even a fight for dominance; I give him complete control over myself.

But we aren’t uninterrupted for long.

A knock on the door causes me to pull back, surprised, while Geralt groans, annoyed. I quickly get off his lap and half-hide behind the tall chair.

“Come in,” Geralt calls out, turning the chair around to face his desk again.

An old man enters, followed by a beautiful, young woman.

“Sir,” the man greets. I don’t know his name, but I know he’s Geralt’s right hand, was Geralt’s father’s before that, and Geralt’s mentor. Upon spotting me he adds, “Miss.”

The woman seems to be his assistant or something. She remains silent but nods at the both of us.

“What is it, Vesemir?” Geralt asks, sounding exasperated.

“Two of our dealers, Sir, have been found dead. Shot in the head,” the old man says.

“Ah, fuck,” Geralt sighs and turns to the woman, “Yen, do you think you’ll get replacement for them within the next two days?”

The woman nods. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sir,” the old man, Vesemir, speaks up, sounding urgent, “that is not the problem. Our men were found by the cops; not ones we own. And for all they know, we executed them.”

Fuck.

The room falls dead silent.

“Hm. Let me deal with them when they come. Any idea who did it?”

“The new clan,” I mumble before anyone else can say anything.

All eyes shoot to me.

“Would make sense,” the old man says, rubbing his chin.

“They’ve only ever invaded our territories, stolen our customers, never killed our men,” Yen argues.

“They’re desperate. They must somehow have found out about the wedding and the union, and now they are becoming more aggressive.” Geralt turns to me. “Lizzy, call your brother. Get your stuff brought here as quickly as possible. You’re not leaving the house.” His voice is commanding, but his eyes, his stunning, honey-coloured eyes, are filled with worry.

“Y-you think- you think I’m a target?” I ask, wide-eyed.

He turns his chair around, fully facing me now, holding my hands tightly in his, reassuringly. “I’ll protect you. But yes. I think you might be a target. With you out of the picture, maybe a staged accident or something that made it look like I was responsible for your death… it would drive our families apart, have us fight against each other. And the new ones would profit from it.”

I only stare at him, unable to speak. It’s all too much. My whole life I’ve been kept out of the business, then I’m introduced to a man and told ‘Best you’d marry him, our family is at the brink of ruin. He can help…’, and now I’m a possible target for a competing family?! I know he’ll keep me safe, but I’m still terrified.

“I won’t let that happen, Lizzy. I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart. Trust me,” Geralt’s voice is sincere, just like his eyes, as he pulls me down to sit in his lap, holding me close to him. Do I really look that scared? That he feels like he has to comfort me in front of his two closest confidants? To be completely vulnerable in front of them?

“I already told you I do,” I whisper against his neck, where he’s holding my head. “And I know you’ll protect me.” I raise my head a little to look at him. “That was part of the deal when we agreed to our marriage, remember?” I wink, trying to sound brave.

“Hm, yes, I remember,” Geralt hums as he stares down at me, almost lovingly.

Yen clears her throat, reminding us of the presence of the two other people in the room.

“Oh, err, yeah. I’ll go, call Jaskier. I guess you have a lot to discuss.” I say as I get off Geralt’s lap and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before leaving the office and making my way back to Geralt’s bedroom.

Once I enter, I grab my phone off the bed and call Jaskier immediately. He doesn’t pick up right away and I’m nervously pacing along the floor-length window.

“C’mon. C’mon, pick up,” I mutter to myself as I hear the dull beeping coming from the other end. It stops. Finally!

“Lizzy, what’s wrong? I thought you and Geralt were… well, busy.” I hear my brother’s voice.

I let out a quick sigh, a mixture of annoyance and relief, and tell him everything I know, and that I’d need my stuff brought over, ideally by the end of the week. It’s enough for him to turn from goofy older brother to protective big brother, demanding I come home immediately.

“Geralt has me under house-arrest, kinda, he isn’t going to let me leave,” I laugh dryly, but then I turn serious. “Jas, I really feel safe here. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. But I worry about you.”

“You’re worried about me? Hey, my death would do shit to drive us apart. You’d be the boss then, so technically, if they were to kill me, they’d make Geralt the head of our family, and that’s the thing they don’t want. So don’t worry about me, Lizzy. Right now, the only one in danger is you, and thanks to Geralt, you don’t have to worry about anything, like you said. I’ll have your stuff brought to you within the next three days. Sorry, I have some important business to attend, one of our clients was found dead. Text me if anything new comes up, okay? Bye Lizzy, see you soon.”

“Yeah, bye Jas,” I mumble and end the call. How can he be so optimistic about the situation? I had literally told him that I might be killed! Did he know something I did not? Probably… I hadn’t been able to really pay attention during the meetings, so I know about as much about the business as when my father was still alive. But I know that Geralt has a lot of men, almost a whole army. I am perfectly safe with him, or at least I hope I am.


	3. You're Safe With Me, Babygirl

For a moment, I only stand there and stare out the window, watching as dark clouds cover the sunset. An eerie light seeps through the window now and I shiver, turning around and climbing into the large, soft bed. In the hopes it would provide some comfort, I pull my knees to my chest tightly and wrap myself in the heavy blanket. It doesn’t.

It starts to rain and I watch the droplets race each other down the glass, losing my focus after a few minutes. I zone out, my mind reeling. I lose track after moments, all I know is that I am terrified to the bone and that it’s all too much for me to handle.

I don’t know how much time has passed when Geralt enters the room. A few minutes? An hour? A few hours even? I can’t tell. It’s dark out now, that’s all I know. I also don’t notice him in the room right away, even after the light is switched on. Only when I am wrapped in two strong arms and pulled against his chest, I really realize his presence, finally torn from my thoughts. Still, I flinch when his large hands first make contact to my skin and my breathing stops for a second. He kisses my shoulder softly, working his way up my neck to my cheek, frowning when he finds it tear-stained. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“Hey, just look at me. Breathe,” he murmurs into my ear, low and soothing. I turn to face him, wiping my eyes with the inside of my wrist, and take a deep breath. My mascara over is probably smeared over my whole face, but honestly, I couldn’t care less.

“You’re safe with me,” he states firmly, yet gentle, wiping a still flowing tear with his thumb, pressing a feather light kiss to my forehead. A gentle gesture you wouldn’t expect from a man like him – so stern and commanding, violent at times, but in this business he needed to be if he wanted to survive. Only I get to see this soft and caring side of him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. And I will kill anyone who tries to.”

I let myself fall back against him, fully succumbing to his hold on me, his warmth seeping into my shivering form. The thought of him killing for me is unsettling yet calming at the same time, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Death is present at all times in the business, but I’ve been kept out of it for my whole life. Still, knowing the lengths he Geralt would go to keep me save make me feel more than protected.

“I know,” I sigh, “But … this… this is all too much. Three months ago, I didn’t know anything about the business, then suddenly we’re engaged and the next thing I know is that someone wants to kill me?!” By the time I end the sentence, I’m sobbing hysterically.

Geralt tightens his grip on me, pulling me into his lap while he scoots back to lean against the headboard. My mascara stains his expensive white dress shirt as I bury my face in his massive chest, but he doesn’t care. He holds me until my tears ebb away, his hands running all over my back to comfort me, whispering to me soothingly while I tremble in embrace.

“Why are you doing all this? What am I to you?” I ask a while after my sobs ceased, completely out of the blue, surprising even myself. Our relationship formed within the last two months after all, engaged after just three weeks. I need to know where I’m standing with him. I know he wants me to stay with him. I know he’s gentle with me, but I need to know if this is real or if he is just acting, because I’m beginning to fall in love with him and… if all this is just an act for him to gain more power, I don’t think I could take it.

“You’re my fiancée. Why?” I have caught him by surprise.

“That’s not what I meant,” I smile weakly, “Why did you agree to the marriage?”

“Hmm, what you mean is:” he smiles down at me knowingly and kisses the tip of my nose “– why did I _suggest_ the marriage?”

“ _Y-you_ did?” I stutter. Entirely not what I expected. I really hadn’t thought that he…

“Yes, I did. I proposed to you after all, didn’t I?” he smirks down at me. “Truth is… I had my eyes on you for some time. I cared about you for longer than we know each other. Your father and I used to work together sometimes, and he’d always boast about you; how well behaved, how pretty you were. And to be honest, he was understating even back then; and you’ve grown into a woman now. The first moment I saw you, I was intrigued. Hmm, this 18 year old girl… so innocent and beautiful, with no real idea what her father and his partners were doing. Every time I was over, I stole glances at you while you were in the dining room with your teacher, preparing for your finals.”

“So… you stalked me?” I tease, internally scolding myself that I have doubted him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he chuckles, “But I wanted you, even back then, so when your brother suggested a union of the families, I saw my chance.”

“And you were so sure I’d like you?” I cock a brow.

Geralt mirrors my expression, motioning up and down on his body, smirking. “I guess _this_ is enough for you to at least give me a chance.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” I laugh. Let’s face it, he is built like a god, with a face to match. Every woman who wouldn’t give him a chance is straight down insane. Not to mention his, uhm, talents in the sheets. “But, you know… I also saw you back then, and even though I didn’t know who you were – dad didn’t tell me shit – I was interested to say the least, though I never thought I’d have a chance.” I was blushing now, not believing what I just confessed to him.

“Then why were you so nervous?”

“Uhm, hello?! It’s not every day that your crush askes you out, and then proposes to you on your second date. I said ‘yes’ because I had to. I know no one would force me, but still… I had to. Also, look at you – I mean, you know you’re hot, and what that does with girls. How can you not expect a little virgin like I am – well, was – to be intimidated?”

“You think I’m hot?” A smirk and a chuckle.

I roll my eyes. “I thought we had established that. You know… when you almost made me suffocate? Just a few hours ago? And the way you look at me when my body reacts to your voice tells me you know it too. And that you like to see your effect on me.”

“Hmm, yeah, I must confess, I like seeing you all flustered. You’re cute when you blush, trying to avoid my eyes. Bummer that you won’t do that anymore, at least not in the way I want.”

I shift in his lap, moving to straddle his hips, my arms loosely around his neck. “That will depend entirely on the things you say,” I smirk and lean forward to mouth on his neck, planning to return his favour – the marks all over my neck and chest. But he grabs my shoulders and pushes me back.

“I’m the one who gets the mark you, baby, not the other way around.” His voice is still soft and playful, but his eyes tell a different story, they are stern and piercing, slightly narrowed, signalling he means the words he said.

I drop back down, sitting on his thighs, pouting. Chuckling at my childishness, Geralt slides his hands down to my hips, grabbing them tightly and caressing with his thumb.

“There are rules, baby,” he starts and I tilt my head slightly, “First of all: no teasing. You tease me, you’re punished. Got it? And I promise you, you’re not going to like it.” I nod. A smirk and a cocked brow. “Second: words. If you want something, you have to tell me. Understood?”

“Yes,” I say, blushing embarrassed; I had just broken a rule.

“Hmm, there is that blush again,” he hums, leaning forward a little to press a light kiss to my heated, pink cheek, making the rosy tint darken, his stubble leaving a welcome scratch on my tender skin. Leaning back against the headboard, he continues, “Third: no touching yourself without my permission. I catch you touching yourself; punishment. And believe me, I will know it, even if you try to hide it.”

I nod a little hesitantly, shivering slightly at the dark undertone in his voice. “O-okay.” It’s more like a question. But then again, I rarely touched myself before and here it would be the same thing as back at home: somebody could burst in at any given moment. Plus, he’d be around now, so if I needed release, all I have to do is ask, like he had just told me to. Still, he had awoken an insatiable hunger inside me that I yet had to learn to control. He had made me come twice today, I’m still incredibly sore, he was my first after all, and yet, I wanted more.

“And lastly: you’ll call me ‘Sir’, except for when I tell you to use my name.”

I smile at that. “‘Sir’, hm? Very fond of your power, I see?” I tease.

He shrugs. “I like being in charge.” His grip on my hips tightens, probably adding to the bruises and I bite my lip to stifle the small moan rising in my throat. “And I like my babygirl to know who is in control.”

“Wife,” I correct, but the word feels weird on my tongue.

“Not yet, babygirl,” he smirks. The new pet name makes my blush – which has just disappeared – bloom on my cheeks, tinting my skin rosy. I still don’t know if I like his effect on me; but it doesn’t matter, really, I’m his.

“But in two weeks.” I wrap my arms around his neck and he lets me pull him in for a kiss.

“In two weeks,” he agrees.

“Thank you,” I mumble against his lips after parting from him, “for insisting on me coming here today.” I pull back enough to gaze into his honey-coloured eyes. He smiles down at me sweetly, – even when I’m sitting on his lap, he towers over me – but doesn’t say anything. “If it weren’t for today, I really wouldn’t have survived our wedding.”

“I know,” he murmurs, “That’s why I wanted you here. And I wanted you to stay. Getting your dress here was the least suspicious way of getting you to come over alone. Your brother doesn’t need to know what we did,” he ends with a chuckle.

“He knows,” I laugh, “He, uhm… when I tested him I’d stay for the night, he sent me thumbs up and a winking smiley… before I left, he told me I ‘shouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t do’… My brother isn’t stupid, Geralt. Unfit for his current position, yes, but not stupid.”

“I’ve never said that,” he chuckles, pulling me close.

There is a moment of silence between us and I lean against his chest, breathing him in. The front of his white shirt is stained grey and black from my mascara, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

“So… ‘Sir’?” I chuckle after a moment, sitting back up, “Your men call you ‘Sir’. Won’t it be weird if I call you that while you’re on top of me? because…” I hesitate, voice small, “It sure as hell would be weird to me.”

I avoid his eyes, embarrassed and slightly scared he’d punish me. But when he lifts his hand to tilt my head up, his touch is so very gentle. Hesitantly, I lift my gaze from his stained shirt to his eyes that shine like molten gold.

Geralt cocks a perfect brow and I am about to lose my breath again. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, babygirl,” he whispers, a low rumble vibrating through his chest, “You have an alternative?”

Shit! I have expected him to have an alternative. I blush, making him smirk. He wanted me to say it all along.

“How about ‘daddy’?” I mumble, almost timidly.

There is a glint in his eyes; one that I can’t quite place. As he seems to consider, or pretends to at least. His gaze turns dark, the smirk on his face widening, flashing a sharp, white fang. “You want to call me daddy, babygirl?” I nod, biting my lip and blushing even harder, avoiding his heated stare. “Then call me daddy.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure how he’d respond, but this reaction… it’s better than everything I had expected. “Hmm, daddy,” I let the name roll off my tongue, testing how it feels like. It’s unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable, and more personal than ‘Sir’. I smile. This is something I could get used to.

And Geralt as well, apparently. His eyes darken at my words, the grip on my hips tightens as he pulls me close to him.

“And you will be a good girl for daddy, hmm? My good little babygirl?” he murmurs against my neck, lips ghosting up the sinew and along my jaw.

“Yes, daddy,” I whisper, my breath hitching in my throat as he nips at my pulse point, “I’m your good girl.”

His lips finally land on mine, almost like a reward. I let Geralt take full control as his hand slides up into my hair, tugging on it. He uses my involuntary gasp to push his tongue into my mouth, stroking against mine with pure dominance, leaving not a single chance for me to fight back – not that I would, he is an excellent kisser and I am more than unexperienced. A moan slips from my throat and Geralt shifts, laying me on my back while he hovers above me, the hand on my hip slipping upwards caressing my sides.

That is when a low rumble causes me to turn away from him, embarrassed.

Geralt sits up immediately, worry but also slight humour etched into his face. “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” I only nod, too embarrassed to speak. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

“I couldn’t,” I squeak, “My nerves.” Gods, I feel pathetic! “And I wasn’t hungry, until now.”

“You didn’t eat because off me?” Geralt asked, sounding guilty and worried, “Oh, sweetheart, you need to take care of yourself.” I nod, still embarrassed as he pulls me to sit up while he’s climbing off the bed and walking towards the door. “Anything specific that you want to have?”

I shake my head, hating this situation. “No… I’m fine with whatever you choose. I don’t really care.”

He opens the door, smiling at me warmly. “Hey, there is no reason to be ashamed, sweetheart. Trust me, I’ve been there, too.”

“You?!” my eyes widen in disbelief, my embarrassment forgotten.

A knowing smirk settles on Geralt’s face. “I’ll be back in a moment.” And then he closes the door behind him.


	4. Dessert

I am once again left alone in the huge bedroom, wondering when it was that he was so nervous he couldn’t eat. _He,_ of all people! He’s always so confident, always knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. I really can’t picture him nervous. Even when he proposed, he was confident, as if he knew I would say ‘yes’. I mean, from how I see it, I had to, to save my family from losing basically everything we have; but even if I had said ‘no’, Jaskier and Geralt would have figured out a deal. Still he has had the confidence of someone who knew he wouldn’t be rejected.

I jump when the door opens, and quickly relax when Geralt comes back in, smiling when he sees me sitting on his bed, his t-shirt still hiked up around my waist.

“Dinner will be brought up soon. How about we get you cleaned up a little, hm?”

“Yeah, uhm, I think that’d be good,” I chuckle, “How smeared is my make-up, exactly?”

A low laughter rumbles through the room. “Well, I guess most of it is on my shirt.”

“Sorry about that.” I bite my lip. “I’ve ruined your clothes twice today, did I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Geralt chuckles, “But don’t worry about it; I usually have worse things cleaned from my clothes than a little cum or mascara.”

He doesn’t say it, but I know what he is talking about. Blood, he is talking about _blood_ – rarely his at that. He does attend to that kind of business personally, after all, that’s why his men call him ‘The Butcher’. He wants the ones who betray him to know exactly _who_ they betrayed; he wants them to regret it, right before he kills them – sometimes with his bare hands. It should scare me, but strangely enough, it doesn’t. It makes me feel protected even, because I know he would never hurt me.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, holding out a hand for me to take as I climb off the bed.

Geralt opens a door and leads me into a large en-suite bathroom. The dark grey tiles are warm beneath my bare feet. Geralt lets go of my hand and grabs the hem of my – well, his – shirt and lifts it off my body. I look at him, slightly surprised, while he walks around me, opening the door of the big, glass shower.

“Want me to join you?” he asks with a wink, and I’m about to respond with a ‘Yes, please, daddy’, lips already parting to speak, when he shakes his head, quietly laughing to himself. “On second thought, I better give you some privacy. Plus, someone has to be in the room when the food comes. You’ll be alright, will you, darling?”

I nod, overplaying my disappointment with a small smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my good girl.” He takes a step towards me and cups my cheek in one of his large hands, hands that are able to kill, hands that do kill, still their touch on me is ever so gentle as he tilts my head back. His face is only inches from mine, warm breath fanning over my skin, his scent invading my nose, dulling my senses. My lips part involuntary, eyes focused on his mouth.

“Didn’t you want to leave me some privacy?” I breathe, but I don’t want him to leave.

“I can’t. As much as I want to, you make it impossible for me,” he murmurs, dipping his head lower so his lips are brushing mine while he speaks. His hand that isn’t cradling my face slides down my waist, wandering lower. “Not before I do this.” His hand reaches its destination. It lands a short spank on my cheek before squeezing the now stinging flesh, causing me to gasp. That is when he captures my lips in his, tongue entwining with mine immediately, devouring my moans that continue spilling from my throat as he kneads my bum. My hands cling to the front of his shirt, trying to get him closer, but he pulls back.

“Don’t take too long, sweetheart,” he smirks as I whine, pressing one last kiss to my cheek and giving my bum one last slap. And then I am left alone in the bathroom, dumbfounded, hungry and needy.

With a deep sigh, I discard of my panties and step into the shower, turning on the water and letting it rain down on me, using the mirror on the opposite wall to make sure my mascara is fully wiped off my face. Washing myself off with soap, I consider easing the need that grows between my legs, my fingers already gliding down my belly, teasing myself, when the door opens abruptly. I jump and quickly tear my hands off my mound, soaping up my legs. Geralt steps into the room, carrying a few towels, another t-shirt and pair of panties for me to wear.

“Figured you’d like that better than wearing your own clothes.”

“Thanks,” I rush out, trying to hide my flush, hoping he’d just think it was because he barged in while I showered.

He nods and smiles. Through the steamed up glass, I don’t see the look of suspicion on his face. He sets the towels on the ground next to the shower-door.

“You better hurry up, dinner’s almost ready,” he says before leaving the room once again.

Holy shit! That was close. I hope he didn’t notice. Or had he provoked this, getting me all needy and then just leaving me alone? Does he want to test me? If so, I had almost failed.

I quickly rinse off and get out of the shower, dry myself off and slip into the clothes he had left for me. I eye the pair of panties with suspicion. Why the hell does he have them? They are brand new and exactly my size. Well, I have to wear something.

Just when I get out of the bathroom, Geralt shuts the door behind one of his men.

“Just in time,” he smiles at me, “You look better, not like a racoon anymore.”

I fake-pout at that, quickly walking over to him, the rumbling in my stomach returning with full force at the smell of food. “I didn’t look that bad! You said it yourself: most of it is in your shirt.”

He only shrugs and smiles, motioning for me to join him on the couch. Once I sit next to him, he lifts the lids off the plates.

“Mhh. You really do know how to seduce a girl, don’t you?” I chuckle, eyeing the dish before my – fresh, steaming pasta. My stomach growls again and I rub my hand against it, hoping that would stop it. It doesn’t.

“Oh, so this works on you?” he jokes, cocking a brow, “And I thought my fiancée is a woman with class.”

“Let me tell you one thing,” I laugh, “Most girls like home-cooked dinners way better than some fancy restaurant. The ones who don’t are shallow bitches; those only want you for your money.”

“Good to know,” Geralt chuckles, grabbing a plate and I do the same.

“So, there was a time when you were nervous?” I ask after a while, taking another bite. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t picture that.”

He nods and swallows, giving me a tiny smile. “After my father died. I, uhm, I was younger than your brother is now, and I think he’s managing so much better than I did. There were days I woke up sick, if I had been able to sleep at all.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know…” I mumble, staring down at my plate.

“Don’t be. I had a lot of help, unlike your brother. And I also wasn’t forced into a marriage, either – well not _forced,_ but I guess you know what I mean.”

“You are a great help,” I say, looking up at him, “Jas would never admit it to you, but you’re really helping him. And our marriage… so far it’s the best thing that happened to me. I…” I sigh, “I just wish my dad would be there, too. I wish the circumstances were different.”

Geralt sets his plate down and turns towards me fully. I do the same and he takes my hands in his, his eyes staring into mine, sweet and soft like honey. “Sweetheart, I do too. This whole thing with the new ones,” he grits his teeth and presses out the next words, “They will pay for everything they have done and for what they have yet to do. If they even think about laying a hand on you-”

I must say, with murder in his eyes, he looks terrifying. I swallow and lower my gaze to our hands in his lap. “Let’s n- let’s not think about that,” I mumble, my voice shaky.

He notices. Of course, he notices. “Right, sorry, sweetheart.” He leans over to press a kiss to my temple. “C’mon, eat up, I’m dying for some dessert.”

I look at him, confused. The tray on the table is empty. Geralt just gives me a suggestive grin and it dawns on me. I blush.

“That is, of course, if you have been a good girl for me. You didn’t touch yourself in the shower, did you? You did seem pretty shocked when I came in…”

I blush harder and swallow the bite I had just taken, but it goes into the wrong tube, and now I sit here, coughing, choking and caught.

“Babygirl?” Geralt asks sternly, cocking a brow. Still, he pats my back to help me breathe again.

“You were unfair,” I pout once the coughing stopped. “But I didn’t. I almost did, but I didn’t.”

“But you teased yourself in there, didn’t you?”

I nod slowly, casting my eyes downward. “Sorry, daddy.”

“Still, you didn’t go through with it, even when I left you all needy for me.” There is a hint of arrogance in Geralt’s voice, as well as a smirk that I could see if I was brave enough to look at him now. I almost broke a rule. Will I be punished? “Hm, I’m proud of you, babygirl. That you were able to stop, that is. I know this is all new to you, so I won’t go hard on you for now. But I want you to know that the next time I catch you touching what’s mine, you will be punished. Understood?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” I mumble, keeping my gaze on the plate on my lap.

“Good. Now come on, eat up. You really earned your dessert now.”

We finish dinner shortly after, the tense moment now in the past as we chat casually, getting to know each other better. It’s easier, now that I can properly look at him without choking on nothing. It’s less tense, doesn’t feel forced anymore. Geralt tells me about how he started the business, about how he held a meeting with the fly of his trousers open the whole time, back when he ran the business about a month or something.

“To this day, I always check my fly twice before standing up,” he chuckles.

He makes me laugh a lot this evening. Though, I have little to tell him, I never had experienced anything outside of my home. Sure, there were stories about how Jaskier and I pranked our dad when he was in a meeting, but these stories always ended with dad yelling at Jaskier and me only being locked in my room, so I don’t tell them. They aren’t funny. They only make me seem like a spoiled brat; Jaskier being yelled at in front of the whole staff while I sit in my room, flinching at the booming voice of my father as he punished my brother for something that had been my idea in the first place. Jas always said he didn’t mind, but I did.

There is a moment of silence between us, Geralt waiting for me to say something, but I don’t, lost in my thoughts and the guilt they bring. He pulls me to sit on his lap, lifting me as if I weigh nothing and plants his hands on my hips.

“Darling?” he asks softly, noticing my absent state, “Are you alright?” I just nod, my head buried in his chest. “You’ve been quiet,” Geralt frowns, “Don’t you want to tell me a little about yourself? I told you about the most embarrassing moment in my career,” he tries to cheer me up with a chuckle, tries to get me to talk, to do _something_.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I sigh, “I just feel like I have nothing to tell. I… I’ve never left my home, and nothing ever happened there. Well, it did, but I wasn’t allowed to know…” I pause for a moment. “And when Jas and I pranked our dad, it always ended badly for him, even if it had been my idea. I don’t like those stories,” I sigh.

“Oh, babygirl.” Geralt pushes me back a little and cups my cheek so I’m looking at him. “Don’t apologize. Do you want me to get your mind off things?” I nod. “Then c’mon.”

But before I can even think of moving off his lap and standing up, Geralt stands and lifts me effortlessly, carrying me over to the bed and lying me down. I prop myself up on my elbows as I watch him undress. And noticing me staring shamelessly, he puts up a show, unbuttoning his shirt teasingly slow. With a frustrated huff, I crawl to the edge of the bed and bat his hands away, starting to unbutton his shirt myself, fed up with how long he’s taking. I press light butterfly kisses to every inch of skin that is revealed to me, well, that is until Geralt clears his throat, making me stop and my eyes dart to his, peering at him through my lashes.

“What did I say about teasing?” he asks sternly, cocking his brow and staring down at me, “Not to mention you taking control.” He tsks and shakes his head. Then, a smirk stretches out on his face. “As much as I appreciate your eagerness, you have to be patient, babygirl. I’ll give you what you want, when _I_ want, alright?”

I drop back down on the bed, casting my gaze on my hands in my lap. “Yes. I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Good girl. Now, will you let me undress at my pace, so I can give you what you want?”

“Mhmhh,” I nod and scoot back to the middle of the large bed, gazing up at Geralt with wide eyes, still stunned by the shape he’s in as he sheds of his shirt. His fingers still move too slow for my liking and I squirm on the bed. And of course he watched me writhe with an amused smirk on his face. When he shrugs off the shirt and moves to unbuckle his belt, my fingers twitch and I have to force myself not to crawl back to him. Apparently, I moved more than I noticed, because Geralt lets out a deep chuckle.

“Don’t make me tie you up again, babygirl.”

“Then hurry up, daddy,” I whine, “Please!” I drag out the word.

“Patience.”

I huff, but do as he told me, lying on the bed, shivering and shaking, when all he did until now was take off his shirt. He didn’t even touch me yet and I’m already a mess for him!

I let out I sigh of relief when he finally drops his trousers. I half expect him to take off his boxers as well, but he doesn’t. He just stands there for a moment, watching me tremble under his gaze.

“Take off your shirt for me, baby,” Geralt purrs. I rush and fling it off my body before he has a chance to say anything else. “Now, prop the pillows up, so you’re half sitting.”

I do as he tells me to, feeling his eyes burn into my bum as I turn my back to him.

“Now lay down. That’s my good girl.”

And finally, he joins me in bed, kneeling over me, still towering, even with my elevated position now. I let out a shaky breath, anticipating his next move. His hand comes up to my face, cradling my jaw gently while his thumb brushes over my cheek, his lips parting.

“What?” I let out a nervous laugh, feeling a little insecure under his gaze when he just stares at me for a minute.

“Nothing,” he chuckles, “It’s just… so good to finally have you here with me. You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted this, to have you sleep in my bed, have you in my arms.”

“Dear gods, since when are you so cheesy?”

Before I know it, his lips crash on mine. “Oh, shut up,” he mumbles, sliding his tongue into my mouth only a second later, effectively shutting me up. Well, not really; I moan into the kiss, just loving the way he is able to take control over my body and mind with his lips and tongue only. I moan at his taste, indescribable but intoxicating. I moan at the way he makes my tongue dance with his. I moan, because his kiss awakens something in me that makes my insides throb for him.

Too soon, he pulls back and I whine, but it soon turns into a moan when his lips move from mine to my jaw and down my neck, adding more and more marks to the ones he left earlier. By now, I bet there is not a single spot of skin left that is not purple. Geralt continues his journey down my cleavage, his hands coming up to knead my aching breasts. He pulls back for only a moment, a proud smile on his face as my nipples stiffen against his palms the second our skin touches.

“You are so beautiful, babygirl,” he breathes, just before diving down and teasing my erect nipple with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth only a second later, making me throw my head back and release a loud, drawn out moan, my hands shooting up to tangle in his strands.

“Shit! Daddy, please don’t stop!” I gasp out, but – much to my disappointment – Geralt indeed stops, kissing a line to my other breast and sucking my pebbled bud into his mouth, humming with delight.

“Baby, you taste so sweet,” he hums against my skin, kissing, nipping and licking his way down to my hips. There, he captures the waistband of my panties with his teeth, tugging. With wide eyes and a gaping mouth, I lift my hips for him to slide them off my legs. My hands drop to the bed when he slips beyond my reach, and immediately I miss the softness between my fingers.

Once my panties are discarded on the floor, I expect Geralt to come crawling up again, to get rid of his boxers and fuck me like he did earlier. Just that he doesn’t. He stays put, kneeling at my feet and takes hold of the back of my knees, bending them and pushing them open, revealing my soaked folds to him. I blush at his hungry stare, and even more when he inhales deeply, closing his eyes with pure satisfaction.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are the sweetest thing I’ve ever come across. In every sense,” he moans and opens his eyes again, locking his gaze with mine. “Look at you, daddy’s beautiful little girl.”

All I can do is whimper; I was never one to be good with compliments, and my current state doesn’t make it easier.

“Daddy, please let me touch you,” I plead, needing to feel him, needing to show him how grateful I am for his words – I feel like a simple, blush-y ‘thank you’ would be wrong, not enough, superficial… something like that.

But Geralt just chuckles and shakes his head. “No, baby, tonight is about you. Let me take care of you.” He pauses, smirking. “Let daddy have his dessert.”

Of course, I know what it means to eat a girl out, but I always thought it’s something extremely dirty, thought that there is no way a man would enjoy it. Does it even taste good? I was never brave enough to try it, to taste myself, but I doubted that it tastes good And I never thought someone would be willing to do it to me.

And now... Geralt lowers himself to his elbows and throws my legs over his shoulders, leaving my dripping folds on display for him. Again, he inhales deeply, this time keeping his eyes locked on, well, apparently his dessert, and licked his lips.

“You’re so wet already, babygirl,” he comments, running one finger through my slippery petals, getting my wetness on it before sticking it in his mouth, releasing a groan at the taste. “Your beautiful little pussy all wet and dripping for daddy.”

I stare down at the beast of a man nestled between my thighs, how he looks at me like I am the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten. It would be a lie to say that this didn’t get me wetter than I already am. Fuck, the sheets really have to be changed tomorrow, because I’m leaking, feeling as if there is a puddle forming underneath my bum. “All for you, daddy. Only for you,” I want to say, but under his gaze it comes out as a whimper.

“Oh, my good, _good_ little girl. Then daddy can ignore that you tried to touch yourself earlier. That pretty little pussy is mine now, babygirl, yes?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Say it for me, baby. I want to hear you say it. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“It’s yours, daddy. It’s all yours. Only yours.”

“Perfect, my sweet. And now, stay still and let daddy take care of you.” He’s about to dip his head lower to meet my lower lips, but stops after moving barely an inch. “I want you to watch me babygirl. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face when I make you cum.” His voice rumbles deeply; I can almost feel it vibrating in my core.

Then, he finally makes contact with my throbbing heat, his tongue sliding along my slit from the bottom up, paring my lips. The sensation of his slippery tongue is new – just like everything that involves someone other than myself toughing my most private spot – and I’m still so sensitive that part of me is glad that he didn’t touch my throbbing pearl just yet, even though it begs to be touched.

Still, my hips buck up, just once, but still I feel the need to apologize. “Sorry, daddy,” I rush out, spotting an amused glint in Geralt’s eyes. His hands come up to my hips and hold me down as he continues to lick on my dripping honeypot, humming with delight at every drop that meets his tongue. The vibrations of his deep hums shoot straight to my core, a tight coil forming already.

“Daddy, can I touch your hair?” I ask, breathless after less than a minute, desperate to cling onto something.

“Hmhmm,” he hums in approval and my fingers tangle into his long white mane instantly. Geralt presses his face closer against my folds, his tongue pushing into me now, the back of his nose rubbing against my clit. I cry out, trying my hardest to keep my gaze on the beast of a man between my legs. But the sight is way too arousing to let go of, because I have _this… beast of a man… nuzzled… between my thighs_ , face pressed into my pussy.

I clench my core around his tongue, feeling myself nearing the edge rapidly now. But he pulls his tongue out and licks a broad stripe up my lips until he reaches my swollen bundle of nerves.

“Hold still,” he reminds me once again, his breath hot against my folds, making me want to rut my hips into his mouth, but I don’t. Instead, I nod, biting my lip. I am not prepared for what happens next. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the sensation of a kiss to my sensitive little pearl. I open my mouth in a silent scream, knowing deep down, that this is just the start. And I’m right. Next thing I know, Geralt closes his lips around my clit, sucking on it, gently at first, but he grows more demanding by the minute, his tongue soon rolling over my bud, tracing random patterns that push me closer and closer to the edge. By now, I’m clinging to his hair for dear life, pulling him closer against me, all while he keeps staring at me with those enchanting, golden eyes of his, blown pupils and the heat, the intensity of his stare making him look like a predator, making me his willing prey that is being devoured alive.

I feel my muscles tensing more and more, my hips now bucking involuntarily, despite of how much I try to keep them still. And how I’m trying! But it’s all too much, and the deep hums coming from Geralt do nothing but contribute to my nearing high. Not long and the coil snaps, making my legs spasm, my whole body shaking.

“Oh, daddy!” I scream as I come, chanting these words over and over as Geralt licks up my juices, guiding me though and prolonging my high with gentle flicks of his tongue as if he knows just how sensitive I am (and that rightly so after three intense orgasms, being deflowered just today). He keeps licking me until the last drop of my arousal is gone and I’m left as dry as I can get down there.

Only then, he crawls up the bed and sits next to me, kissing on my neck softly while pulling the pillows from behind my back, supporting me with his arm instead and lowering the both of us to lie down on our sides, facing each other. The whole time, I’m still too dazed to realize what is happening, so I feel like waking from a trance when he presses a kiss to my forehead.

“You did so good, babygirl,” Geralt coos softly – well as soft as his rough voice can get, “And you taste amazing, my sweet.”

“Does it really? Taste good?” I question, “I just can’t imagine that it tastes good.”

Geralt chuckles and cups my cheek with one of his large hands, lifting my head a little so I’m looking at him. “You want to try?”

Considering for a moment, I bite my lip, and end up nodding, still a little uncertain, but curious. “Yea.”

Geralt rolls me to lie on my back gently, hovering above me, his hand still cupping my cheek. Then, he lowers his head, kissing me slowly, waiting for me to part my lips when I’m ready. After about a minute, I do and he slips his tongue in to dance with mine. And then I taste it. I taste myself on him. The taste is weird, unlike anything I’ve tasted before, but it’s not disgusting. I wouldn’t describe it as sweet as Geralt does, but in a way it kind of tastes good. Or maybe that is just because it’s mingled with Geralt’s very own taste. But I know that right now, I just can’t get enough of it.

We only break apart when we are breathless, our chests heaving. Much to my disappointment, Geralt gets out of bed, then, pulls the heavy curtains to cover the large window, tosses me my panties and makes his way over to the light switch, killing all light in the room except for the fireplace. I haven’t even noticed it was lit until now

A dim golden glow surrounds the room now as we snuggle into bed together, Geralt wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace, making me feel safer than I have ever before, my head resting on his chest, fingers lazily playing with the thick curls of his chest hair. For some time there are no sounds heard except for our steady breathing and the quiet crackling of the dying fire.

In this moment of complete peace, my mind is clear, as clear as it had been in Geralt’s office, and I remember something that Jaskier had just mentioned on the side when we talked earlier.

“Geralt?” I ask quietly. A deep hum tells me he’s awake and wants me to continue. “When I talked with Jaskier earlier, he said that one of our clients has been found dead. You think that it could also been the new ones?”

“Could be. Probably. The question is just, what do they want to reach with that?” Geralt murmurs, “But this is nothing you have to worry about. Your brother and I will deal with it. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Any now sleep, sweetheart, today must have been quite exhausting.”

“Mhh, yeah, good night, daddy.” With those words, I close my eyes and the last thing I feel is Geralt pressing a kiss to the top of my head and tightening his embrace around me. In this warm cocoon of heavy blankets and my fiancé, I quickly fall asleep – today had been, indeed, draining; in both a good and a bad way.


End file.
